


In Memory I...

by swingandswirl



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 15:31:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10642764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swingandswirl/pseuds/swingandswirl
Summary: It has been three years, five months, and twenty-one days since he lost his lover. Reposted from LiveJournal.





	

It’s morning.

 

He doesn’t know much else, but the harsh sunlight streaming through the windows of his bedroom tell him that it is morning. He doesn’t care very much for it. Not that he cares very much for anything these days.

 

Brush teeth…shower…dress…comb hair… …it’s a monotonous routine, but one he has grown accustomed to, one that is a safe haven from the uncertainties of life. 

 

Usually, it is enough to keep the memories away- unless, like now, he stumbles on something that is especially poignant. Like the old school tie peeking out of the dresser drawer. He takes it in his hands, running his fingers over the smooth silk, letting the memories wash over him.

 

It has been three years, five months, and twenty-one days since he lost his lover. Other people remember where they were when the news of Voldemort’s final defeat came through; _he_ remembers the flash of green and the two words that shattered his life. Today, the memories that flood him are happy ones- Harry trying, and failing, to teach the older man the intricacies of Muggle cooking- his lover had never understood why you couldn’t just wave a wand and conjure whatever you needed. Snatches of conversation come back to him, fragments of a life that he once lived.

 

“Take a bath, Harry…”

 

“Dragons…”

 

“Both of us. Let’s just take it together…”

 

He can still see the glass-topped casket, so like the fairy tale. Cedric used to joke that Harry would make a fine drag Snow White, the other man retorting that he wasn’t snow white by any means, and Cedric should know. 

 

Professor Flitwick had been the one to explain Cedric’s resurrection, for lack of a better word. Avada Kedavra, like the other Unforgivables, depended on the will of the caster, as well as the magical power he or she possessed. Wormtail had had the will, but not quite the power, sending Cedric into a sort of half-life between this world and the next, before some miracle pulled him back to the land of the living. No one was sure how he had come back, and neither Harry nor Cedric could bring themselves to care- they were together, and that was what mattered. 

  
The voices in his head play on, and he can hear his lover whistling tunelessly as he struggled with a complicated Potions essay, his calm, reassuring voice soothing him as he came out of the coma he had been in for a month after an attack. His lover’s arms around him, strong and comforting, as he awakened from nightmares filled with green flashes and things that few dared name. The smell of aftershave during Harry’s first shaving lesson, followed by Cedric “inspecting” his jaw to make sure he had done a good job. Harry, in turn, teaching Cedric the Muggle way of knotting a tie. He smiles. They had certainly come up with some _creative_ uses for those old school ties.

 

Then his memories turn, inevitably, to that fateful night, the night at Hogwarts when everything had gone so horribly wrong. In the months after Dumbledore’s death, Harry, Cedric, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Luna, Neville, Fred, George and Lee Jordan had searched for and destroyed the remaining Horcruxes, and Draco Malfoy had successfully poisoned Nagini.

 

All that remained was the final confrontation. Voldemort, sensing, perhaps, that this would be his Waterloo, had thrown everything he had in his considerable power at Hogwarts- trolls, banshees, werewolves, vampires, giants, even a basilisk.

 

Sometimes, late at night, he still hears the screams of the dying, praying for a release that is far too slow in coming. He has always held the Killing Curse as Unforgivable, but since that night, he often wonders if a quick, easy death was not more merciful than what many of his friends and classmates were dealt. There had been no time to stop, let alone grieve, as he fought Death Eater after Death Eater, praying that both he and the man he loved would get out of this mess unscathed.

 

And then, the moment he had both dreaded and waited for, for what seemed like forever. Harry and Voldemort, face to face, for the last time. Harry glances toward Cedric and, for the first time during this battle, Cedric feels at peace with himself, sure of the love in his partner’s eyes. Then the duel that will change the face of the Wizarding world begins.

 

Cedric watches, frozen, as the two duel, Dark versus Light, age versus youth, immense experience matched against near-superhuman agility and speed.

 

And then Voldemort cries “ _Avada Kedavra!_ ”

 

Cedric wants to scream, but he can’t move, he can’t breathe as the green light flashes toward Harry. At the last possible moment, a white shield surrounds Harry, and Cedric can breathe again. Harry is almost glowing now, and Cedric can feel the waves of love pouring fourth from his lover…no, his beloved. Voldemort can too, and Cedric rejoices in the fear on his face as Harry moulds the white light surrounding him into a ball of light so bright Cedric can barely look at it. For a moment, Harry wavers, as if the love he holds will overpower him.

 

Cedric, in a desperate move, yells, “I love you, Harry!”, praying his lover will hear. For one torturous moment, Cedric fears it is not enough. Then the ball of light slams into Voldemort, and a terrible scream echoes through the grounds. When the light fades, Harry is standing, weary but triumphant, in front of a pile of ash that was once Voldemort. There is stunned silence for a moment, then the battlefield erupts- cries of joy from the light, and screams of agony from the Death Eaters as the magic that Marks them takes their lives. Joy and relief and love and hope all swamp Cedric, and in the confusion, he doesn’t notice- no one does- Bellatrix Lestrange raise her wand in one last, desperate act of terror.

 

_“Avada Kedavra!”_

 

The green light arcs through the air, and Cedric lunges, his hands closing in on Harry’s warm but limp form as the Killing Curse reaches its target. He sees nothing but Harry’s too-pale face, eyes the colour of the Curse open and empty, mouth curved in one last, triumphat smile. People scream and shout all around him, but Cedric hears only the two words that shattered his soul.

 

_Avada Kedavra. Avada Kedavra._

 

The words reverberate around his skull, echoing through his mind until a scream breaks through the nightmare.

 

Cedric looks around, searching for the one who screamed, then realizes it came from his own throat. Extricating his hands from the shredded Gryffindor tie he holds, he wipes away the tears and grabs his wand from the bedside table. It’s time to head to work. After all, a busy bee has no time for sorrow.       

 

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was originally written in 2006, posted on LJ, and is being reposted here for archive purposes.
> 
> It's not my best fic by a long shot, but it is the first one I ever published, and I'm rather proud of it.
> 
> Comments are, as always, appreciated.


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